More and more she understood the difficulties that must have attended his youth and maturing, as she considered his father’s early death, his mother’s strength and pragmatism, her absence of any sympathetic knowledge of and sensitive concern for either of her children. Such was Sarah’s honesty of mind and warmth of heart, she could feel protective of Selma at the same time she sorrowed for Bonard in his bleak, unhappy situation of life. He was married, and therefore not free to seek a wife; yet he had no wife.

Even when he left her, his heart lightening boyishly with the contemplation of pleasures he and Bonard would seek in Savannah after their business had been done each day—even then he knew he should be glad to return to her when the time came. Regretting sorely not giving her a child, he was her child, as well as her husband. The jouncing coach, working together with the snug fit of his trousers and lively thoughts, brought him to partial erection. Yes, he loved her, and oh, he cherished her, even as every mile and hour that separated them made him a happier, freer man.

The day after his departure Sarah kept her school in the morning as usual and walked with Selma and Pauline in the early afternoon, it being mild and near windless then. She had supper with Deborah, and after it, while Deborah met with Roscoe in her office, Sarah went with Ezra on his rounds of the sick. They were joined by Floyd, and she accompanied them finally to their cabin, where they found Lovey, and all talked as they sat and drank coffee around the kitchen table.

When Sarah rose to go, Floyd rose with her; but Sarah said she would go alone, and she did, although Floyd stood in the dark yard and followed her progress as long as he could. Two of the hounds trotted out inquisitively to see who was stirring, and she petted them and talked to them as they escorted her to the back door of the big house.

The next afternoon Sarah accompanied Deborah, who drove her own buggy, to Oaks. Sarah spent most of the time there talking to Trudy, whom she liked, and playing games with Trudy’s children, who delighted her. Rooster joined them for tea and cake, and Sarah was interested to observe Deborah with him. Deborah became almost girlishly intense in both her heavy humor and her seriousness. Sarah understood—it was not a new thought—more clearly than ever before that Rooster was the son Deborah wished she had had. She was touched by the light play of jealousy between Deborah and Edna, as both endeavored to please and claim the attention of the young man.